What I've Become
by PandorasFool
Summary: Despite his best efforts to hold it all together, Ethan's life is falling apart all around him. He's changing into someone he doesn't recognize, and one tragic night is all it will take to push him over the edge...
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

**Okay everyone, my first fanfiction, ever. I got the inspiration one day simply walking down the street in the rain, thinking of what the Joker's life might have been like before he became, well, the Joker. I used his second scar-explaining story and ran with it. I know that the Joker's second story isn't really what happened, but it's my favorite story of his scars. I'm simply expanding. Enjoy!**

_The Legal Stuff: I don't own the Joker or Gotham city. I do own Meredith's character._

--

"Piss off." The acne-speckled adolescent spat at him, slouching in the chair and glaring with cold, steely eyes that seemed to look through him.

"You know, Lewis, the only thing keeping you from actually making a decent grade is your own stubbornness!" Ethan tried to reason with him. Silence. He could tell he wasn't getting through, not today. Not any day. But he had to keep trying. It was sort of...expected of him. "If you just did the homework...I mean, are you not understanding what I'm assigning? You know I'm always here an hour after school. I can help you with--"

"I don't _need_ any help! When am I ever going to use this crap in real life, anyway? You can take your stupid chemistry and shove it!" Lewis jumped up from the chair and walked out the door, slamming it behind him. The blinds on the door gently tapped against the glass. Ethan's office was completely silent, save for the ticking of the clock on his desk.

"I...I give up." he sighed, shaking his head, weary. He looked to his left, at the wall where his Bachelor of Science degree hung, crisp and white in its pristine frame. Four years of college, and this was the thanks he gets? He rose from the desk. Grabbing his briefcase and suit jacket, he stepped out the door and walked down the high school's old hallway with the peeling white-and-yellow paint. As he neared his car, he started reflecting on his life's course up to this point. This was nothing like he'd expected. When he started college seven years ago at Kenington State University, he'd had a plan. He was going to roll up his sleeves, get his hands dirty, and make a _difference_ in the lives of every person he came in contact with. He'd had such a fire, a passion for the high schoolers he knew he'd teach one day.

So what happened? He knew. Oh, he knew better than he wanted to admit, even to himself. He'd simply been introduced to the horror known as _real life._ Where not everything goes according to plan. Where pain is real and disappointment awaits you at every corner. Where people are fake and apathy abounds. As if that weren't punishment enough for believing he could change things--he'd fallen for The Big One. The ever-elusive American Dream. Having everything he wanted--a beautiful wife, a nice car, a cute little house complete with picket fence--and, of course, the money to pay for it all. He'd walked into the trap and now the walls were closing in on him. Since he was the only one working, he had no way out...no way of paying for what they had, much less for what they wanted.

Ethan pulled into the driveway and looked at the grass that needed mowing yet again. _I thought Meredith said she'd do it today_, he thought to himself. _I guess I'll have to do it Saturday morning._ It didn't matter, anyway. He couldn't look her in her pool blue eyes and be truly angry at her for long. It just made him so...damned depressed. He tried turning the door handle, but it wouldn't budge. That could only mean one thing...

Stepping into the kitchen, Ethan put his keys down on the scratched wooden table, next to a stack of envelopes. The bills were there, but Meredith wasn't. Suprise, suprise. A yellow sticky note was placed on the top of the stack:

_Hey honey, gone to Drew's. Be back later. Love, Meredith_

Ah, Drew's. He knew the place well. Not that he'd ever been there, but it's where Meredith spent her time. And his money. The local bar where she liked to hang out and play poker nearly every night with friends he'd never met. She always seemed to leave with a pocket full of cash but never failed to come home empty-handed. He'd wanted so many times to confront her about her problem, to put his foot down about the fact that she was squandering money they obviously didn't have. He just...couldn't. He simply kept it all inside, tight-lipped and downcast.

He warmed up leftovers and sat down, staring at the pile of bills the mailman had brought that day. Taking a deep breath, he opened the first: his credit card bill. His eyes scanned down to the line that read, Total Due. Suddenly, he no longer had an appetite. He closed his eyes, dizzy. Did Meredith have no sense of money whatsoever? He knew the answer already. She simply didn't care. She knew that whatever she spent on the card would be footed by him, no questions asked. He always did it without a word. So he couldn't really blame anyone but himself for the monstrous figure that stared up at him from the paper. He loved her too much. He loved to see her smile, even if it cost him dearly.

He stood, scraped his plate into the trash, and refolded the bill. He shuffled down the cramped hall to the bedroom, stepping over the plastic pan that caught water from the ceiling when it rained. They couldn't afford to have it repaired, not now. Not when there were more urgent obligations before him...like credit card bills he knew he couldn't pay. Stepping into the bathroom, Ethan turned on the shower and looked at his face in the wide mirror over the sink.

He undressed, staring at the bags under his eyes. _So tired...but of _what_? Of being pushed around. Of being stepped on._ _Of being used... _

But who could he tell? Who cared, anyway? He could tell Meredith, but he'd heard her answer before: "It will all work out, Ethan. Just let it go...and smile every once in a while! Your pretty face would be so much _prettier_ with a smile." And that's all she'd say. He studied his mouth. _Who am I kidding?_ he thought. _This face wasn't made for a smile. I've got too much to worry about to just stick a smile on and expect everything to be okay. It's gonna take a lot to change this face._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**a/n: I've had 25 hits, and only 1 review. What gives? If you like it, say so! If you don't, say so! :-) FF lets you leave anonymous reviews, so you can still be lazy and leave a review! Just let me know how you think it's going!**

_I don't own Gotham city or any of that fluff. Not that they're in Gotham city right now (they're not!)_

--

Stepping out of the shower, Ethan was greeted by the sound of breaking glass. He quickly threw on a pair of boxers and half-ran into the kitchen, where he heard Meredith murmuring.

"Oh. Whoops!" she said.

Coffee ran from the broken mug and spread over the kitchen table, saturating everything in its path--the bills, the sticky note, and the test papers Ethan had brought home to grade.

"Damn! Meredith--the papers!" he exclaimed, scrambling to pick up the fanned-out stack before they were ruined, but it was too late. All of them were stained dark. "How could you do this? I'm already under a lot of stress right now, you know that!" he said, shaking the papers at her.

"I'm sorry! I was just--" she began, half-heartedly.

"You know what? 'Sorry' isn't going to fix this!" Ethan dropped the wet stack on the table, sending droplets of coffee to the edges of the tabletop. She looked at him with distant eyes. "Don't just stand there, grab a towel or something and help me!" he roared. He was annoyed at her for being so apathetic. She leaned against the countertop behind her.

"Fine, I'll do it myself!" Ethan shouted. He knew it was unlike himself to be so short-tempered, but at the same time he was warming up to the idea of gaining a little control. He tried to push the thought away despite the tiny smirk that grew within. Ethan threw open the bottom cabinet drawer, got out some towels, and dried up the mess. When he looked up, Meredith wasn't at the counter. She'd gone into the den and was now sitting in the gray armchair, shuffling a deck of cards on the coffee table. Ethan walked in and sat on the couch on the other side of the table. He mindlessly watched her fingers split the deck and shuffle the cards together in one fluid motion. The cards were well-worn, the box ragged. They were the cards she used almost every night at Drew's. He took a deep breath. Meredith looked up at him, her bands covering one eye. He began.

"Look, I'm sorry for yelling. I'm just..." He sighed.

"...Going through a lot right now?" she finished.

"Yeah."

"You say that all the time! You are so uptight! And it never gets any better, it only gets worse! I mean, I come home and--"

"Can we not talk about this right now? Let's just drop it."

"See! There you go again! Why are you so _serious_ all the time? Lighten up a little!" Meredith spread the cards on the table between them with one hand. She picked up the King of Hearts and slid it to him. A suicide king. "See, you're like this guy. He's so sad and old-looking. And look what he's doing to himself! No queen wants him!" she chuckled.

Ethan stared at the card before him--the weary eyes, the sullen look, the sword thrust in the head. True, he felf like that most of the time. His memories of happiness were moving farther and farther away as time went on.

Meredith was still talking, but he paid her no attention. He wasn't interested in her harangue. He wasn't even looking at the card anymore and had instead fixed his gaze on the blank wall to his left. When he looked down again, the King of Hearts was gone and had been replaced with another card, Meredith's fingers still on it. He tuned back into her voice.

"...should be more like _him!_" she finished, pulling her hand away. A white-faced figure clad in motley stood on one toe, holding a staff on which a severed head was perched. A joker card.

He looked back up at Meredith, who smiled expectantly. "You...want me to dress in tights and behead people?" He raised an eyebrow. To be honest, it wasn't such a bad idea at this point. Well, minus the tights. He'd rather dress like a gentleman. His face relaxed into a half-smile at the thought. Meredith took notice.

"_That's _what I like to see!" She rose and walked around to where he say and placed her hand on his bare back. "I don't know about the whole killing-people-idea, but if it's what makes you happy, go for it! Be a hit man--make me some more money!" She kissed him on the temple and started down the hall. "Now come to bed! It's late! You can't be a good jesterif you don't get enough sleep, you know!" she called over her shoulder.

But he'd stopped smiling. She's brought up the most painful subject currently at hand. Money. The deluge of worry had returned, and he was drowning again. He ran a hand over his light brown hair. He liked to keep it short--he looked _cleaner_ that way. It got curly and unruly if he let it go, and he didn't want to look like a psycho...

He looked down at the card again.

...or a _clown._

Besides, appearances were crucial to Meredith. She always looked pristine, never shabby. She pulled every look off perfectly, even when she went out to the bar just to play poker with her faceless friends. He knew he'd catch hell if he let himself go.

Ethan stood up and turned out the nearby lamp, then turned to walk down the hall when something caught his eye. Their wedding picture, illuminated softly by the hall nightlight. He looked at himself. So he _had_ been happy at one time. That was when the days of honey were upon them, and everything seemed right in the world. He could barely remember them now. He crept down the hall and slipped into bed beside Meredith, falling at last into a fitful sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**a/n: Sorry it's been so long—I've been incredibly busy. I'm currently working on Chapter 4.**

**Don't give up on me yet! And thanks to Christy for being my Beta, though she's as busy as me!**

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The radio alarm came on promptly at 8, like it always did on the weekend. Ethan blinked a few times at the glowing green digits and silenced it. He yawned and rolled over, trying to block out the sound of running water. Meredith was already up and in the shower, the day's clothes down from their hangers and lying across a chair. He stared out the window before him as he listened to the running water in the bathroom that muffled Meredith's singing. He gazed blankly at the lawn, the grass slowly being taken over by weeds and crabgrass.

_I'm supposed to do that today,_ he thought, his brow knit at the thought of tackling the overgrown lawn under the scorching eye of the sun. He sighed._ I need to get up and do it before it gets too hot out._ The thought came automatically, subconsciously. Ethan caught himself and decided to rethink the matter. _If Meredith doesn't have to, why should I?_ The words appeared in his head in a bitter stream. "Screw it," he mumbled, turning over again, this time ending up on his stomach. He yanked the cover over his head but couldn't sleep, not only because Meredith was now drying her hair, but he knew he still had a lot to do even if mowing the lawn wasn't on the list. His thoughts roamed from the upcoming week's curricular schedule to the coffee-stained test papers to the stack of bills sitting on the kitchen table. But what, really, did it matter? He didn't want to care about it anymore.

Just then Meredith emerged from the bathroom, looking spectacular, as usual. Her brown hair was set perfectly around her face, not one strand askew. She didn't say a word to Ethan, who remained face down on the bed. She simply scooped up her handbag and keys, and walked out of the bedroom. Ethan didn't ask where she was going. He knew. She was going shopping. He heard the front door close and her car start in the driveway. Though he'd not seen much of her in the past week, he didn't care. In fact, he was somewhat relieved to see her go. It gave him time to think. He was torn. He loved Meredith, _loved _her. And it was because he loved her he was in such anguish. He felt it was his duty as her husband to provide for her, but at the same time he felt she should pull her own weight. He had to do everything himself most of the time; she was just along for the ride. He knew they couldn't go on like this, digging themselves deeper in debt as time went on. He had to say something before too much damage was done.

But how would he say it? He knew that if instead of beating around the bush he just got to the point and was blunt about it, she'd be more likely to listen. Meredith was a master of manipulation. Given the opportunity, she could change a subject faster than Ethan could open his mouth to object. The thought of Meredith's reaction to his confrontation infuriated him. That was another thing that kept Ethan thinking about how to broach the subject of her overspending. His fledgling temper worried him a little, though he had to admit it felt nice to gain a little control over the relationship by losing a little control of himself. He didn't want to offend her, but he had to be honest with himself: her feelings mattered less to him now than their financial status. That came first. She would get over it. The bank wouldn't. It might even feel…good to speak his mind. Even though the words would most likely hurt temporarily, he knew the lasting effects would be worth it. He could relieve the pressure of their debts while also lessening the pressure in his head, and he wanted to free his mind more than anything. _I have to stop letting this money business get to me…I'm going to lose my mind!_ He thought. _I'm sick and tired of being depressed._ He let out a sharp sigh into the pillow. _That's it._ _The minute her pretty little leg crosses the threshold, I'm letting her have it._ Ethan pushed himself onto his knees with his arms and stepped off the bed, onto the carpeted floor. He ran a hand over his hair and opened the middle dresser drawer to grab a t-shirt. His eyes fell on an empty drawer. So Meredith didn't do any laundry yesterday, either. He drew a long breath and closed his eyes for a moment, then scanned the floor for something else to wear. Putting on a white tee that he'd worn _last_ Saturday, Ethan made his way to the living room where he'd left the stack of test papers. He grabbed a pen from his briefcase and set to grading them, stained or not. He didn't much care anymore. He turned on the TV for a little background noise. He was almost halfway through the stack when a midday news headline caught his ear and he looked up at the screen.

"Today in Gotham a group of city residents who call themselves 'Citizens For Batman' held a public rally at the city's Community Center #5, met with quite a bit of opposition," the reporter said. A video showed a crowd of citizens bunched up near a curb, shouting at a group of people wearing black shirts and carrying picket signs, some of which read "Don't let city hall arrest Batman" and "Fight back. Fight for Batman!" The reporter continued. "Batman, whose real identity is unknown, has been received with mixed reactions from Gotham citizens over the years. Today's demonstration was quickly shut down by Gotham City Police, but now the group claims that their First Amendment rights are being threatened. We will have more on this story later. In other news…"

Ethan had heard of this masked individual called Batman, though he never really took the time to read up on him, though he lived in a neighboring city and had traveled to Gotham many times before on work-related trips. _Sounds like an interesting character,_ he thought. _But why a bat? He looks like an idiot. To each his own, I guess._ He looked back down at the papers and continued his work grading and creating lesson plans for the coming week.

A few hours later, Meredith returned. Ethan heard the car door slam from the kitchen, where he'd been burning an attempt at an early dinner and fighting with the smoke detector in the hall. He turned the burners off and tossed the kitchen towel on the counter in frustration. It could wait. He tensed his jaw and stepped into the living room to greet Meredith with an interrogation. He'd been planning it all day.

"God, what is that _smell?_" Meredith crinkled her nose in disgust as she walked in the door, trying in vain to cover her nose with one shopping-bag laden arm.

"Never mind that. Sit down." Ethan replied.

Meredith lowered her brows in confusion and shock. "Well I thought you'd be happy to—"

"Sit, Meredith!"

She sat on the sofa and slipped the bags from her hands, the look of confusion not leaving her face. _Well that was easy_, Ethan thought to himself, somewhat surprised. "How much did you spend?" he asked, looking down at her where she sat.

"What does that—"

"How much did you _spend?_" He asked again.

Their eyes met. There was a pause.

"Let me see the receipts, Meredith." Ethan bent down to reach into the bag closest to him, a pink one from Henson's, a shoe boutique. "I want to know!"

Meredith tried to pull his hand away from the bag, but Ethan simply turned his body so that his shoulder was in her way and continued digging through the white tissue paper, looking for the receipt. She stood and pushed him away from her, causing him to stumble backward to keep himself from falling. Anger was welling up in him. "I have a right to know!" he roared, stepping closer to her and getting in her face. Meredith raised her hands to his chest quickly to push him away again, but Ethan seized her wrists and forced her back to the sofa. "I'm the one who pays the damned bill!" he said, releasing her. He reached down to the coffee table, where he'd put the latest credit card bill. He flipped the paper open. "Look at this! How am I supposed to pay this by next week?! They'll have our cars, our clothes—our _house_—if I don't pay this!" He shook the paper in front of her eyes. Snatching it, she read down to the bottom figure. Her narrowed eyes darted back up to meet his fiery ones above the paper.

"Fine," she said, glaring. "You win. I'll cut back on the shopping." She rose and grabbed her keys, shoving the bill into Ethan's hands and started toward the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked.

"Out. What does it look like, genius?"

"I don't think so. You've got to stop gambling, too." He lowered his voice to speaking volume.

"You won't keep me from having a social life!" she yelled.

"Like hell I won't keep you from doing whatever I want to! You don't think I know that you're gambling away our money in some stupid poker game every night?! You _will_ stop!" he raised his voice again.

"I'm not your dog; I'm your _wife_, Ethan!"

He opened his mouth to spit another heated word but suddenly decided against it. It would be best for her to leave for a little while anyway to allow them both to cool down.

Meredith studied Ethan's face from across the room. She had never experienced this before. The day they shared their first date she knew she could make him do anything she wanted. She was determined to win this fight, to whip him back into shape and regain her hold on him. She looked at the stubble on his face with disgust. How slovenly. She straightened her back and flipped a piece of hair away from her face. "What the hell is _that_?" she taunted, waving a finger in the direction of his chin. "Go shave. You look like shit." Ethan glared back at her, jaw set, eyes narrowed. He blinked slowly at her. He wasn't moving, not for her. Not now. Meredith turned on her heel and left the house, slamming the door behind her. Backing out of the driveway, she began to think about what had just happened in the house. Ethan wasn't what she'd thought he was at the beginning of their relationship. He was starting to scare her. Not that he'd ever hurt her—no. He'd never do that. She'd never allow it. But she couldn't manipulate him as well as she could before, and that annoyed her. It worried her.

Meredith was losing control. Little did she know…so was he.


End file.
